


Two Tickets to Paradise

by fangirlSevera



Series: The Real Housewife of Avengers Tower [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Honeymoon, Humor, M/M, SHIELD Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1707236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlSevera/pseuds/fangirlSevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil and Clint have been married for over a year and <i>still</i> have not gone on their honeymoon. When their friends find out, they are summarily packed off to Puerto Rico on an All-Stark-Paid vacation. </p><p>There, they get to experience sun, sand, spas, and a couple unexpected, unwelcome encounters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Tickets to Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> As the previous two parts were written before Phase 2 of the MCU began, this too is not _Winter Solider_ nor _Agents of SHIELD_ compliant. 
> 
> Title from Eddie Money song of the same name.

Pepper strode into the common room of Avengers Tower, frowning at her phone. "Tony, why have I been getting messages from a resort in Puerto Rico about an outstanding, indefinite reservation you made a year ago and have not utilized?"

Tony looked up from the wet bar, eyes roving like the answer was somewhere in the room around and above him. "Puerto Rico... Are you sure I didn't just buy a resort?"

"No. It says a reservation for two for the honeymoon suite. So, unless you were getting a little ahead of yourself there for the future of our-"

"Honeymoon!" Tony crowed, eyes widening. "That was for Mr. and Mr. Agent! What the hell, guys?"

 The last question was shouted across the room to where Clint and Phil were sitting next to each other on one of the sofas facing the television. "We've been busy!" Clint called back not turning away from game show contestants dashing around a studio grocery store.

"You're not busy now!"

Next to him, Phil silently raised an eyebrow and continued to read his eMagazine, leaving Clint to defend them on his own.

So much for the honor bit of the vows. "Having the rare evening off to relax at home does not mean we have time to take a full vacation. I don't think either of us has had three full days off in a row since we met, discounting medical leave."

Pepper walked over to them with her "I'm sad and a little disappointed" face on. "You haven't gone on your honeymoon?"

"It's fine," Phil insisted, trying to placate his friend. "It was never a priority for us." Pepper's eyes were starting to look a little wet, so Phil hastily added, "Not a single full week has gone by without one of us being pulled in to some kind of SHIELD or Avenger-related work. Clint is right, we don't have the time for it."

"You know, busy saving the world or at least one city," Clint said.

Pepper huffed a sigh and opened her phone's keyboard. "What are you doing?" Clint asked, just as his own phone buzzed in his pocket. An angry emoji with the message _I'm telling Fury_ from Natasha lit up his screen. Clint was about to show it to Phil, but Phil's phone rang in the next moment.

Phil didn't even have a chance to speak before Clint could hear the unmistakable shouting of Director Fury coming from the other end. He was only able to make out a few words, which were "Motherfucker," "your boy," and "NOW!"

Phil gave a curt "Yes, sir" and hung up. He shot a glare of betrayal at Pepper, then turned to Clint. "I guess we're going on our honeymoon."

Which is how Clint found himself standing in the lobby of the fanciest-ass hotel he'd ever been in (the chandelier looked like a masked, Parisian madman was about to ride down on it any minute), carrying the luggage while Phil (with his fluent Spanish, despite the resort catering to mostly wealthy Americans and therefore everyone spoke perfect English) handled their check-in at the desk. A bellhop was giving Clint the stink-eye, but even on vacation, their suitcases had a few weapons inside, and no one was getting their hands on the luggage. The guy would just have earn his extra tips some other way.

Phil turned around with their room key and a handful of pamphlets. He noticed the tension and apologized to the bellhop in Spanish. The guy (kid really) gave Clint one more malicious squint, but with a nod to Phil finally went off to scope the newer arrivals.

"What did you say to him?" Clint asked, handing Phil his own suitcase and heading for the elevator.

 "I explained that we once had a bellhop steal from us in Vegas and you've been overly paranoid and suspicious around them ever since."

"Gonna make me popular with the staff."

"You were doing so well making friends on your own."

 Clint didn't wait for elevator doors to close before trying to kiss that smirk off Phil's face.

 

* * *

 

Living in a building designed by Tony Stark, Clint and Phil were no longer strangers to luxury. But when it came to hotel stays, they were definitely still more used to the cramp conditions afforded on SHIELD's dime. There wasn't even a bed in the first room they entered. Instead there was a small dining table, a kitchenette to one side, and a living area complete with a full sofa and entertainment center. The bedroom was completely separate and just as large with a king sized bed taking up the center of the floor. From the bedroom there was the bathroom complete with jacuzzi and rain shower. The balcony stretched across the living room and bedroom, accessible from both and overlooked the resort's strategically planted tropical gardens.

Clint whistled, taking it all in. "Tony's really putting us up nicely."

Phil was shaking his head as he began unpacking. "I wish he didn't feel the need to. We were just fine without everyone else feeling like they know what's best for us."

"Maybe we should try and forget how exactly we came to be here, and just enjoy being here now that we are?"

Phil sighed, his shoulders visibly dropping. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking like this week is going to be a hardship."

Glint grinned and stalked closer to him. "Once we finally get our clothes off and put this ridiculous bed to use, it will definitely be a _hard_ ship."

Phil groaned. "I left myself wide open..."

"Hey now," Clint said, impish glint his eye as he pulled Phil against him by his belt loops. "I think that's my line."

"You're terrible," Phil said, smiling against Clint's lips.

"Lucky me, you have terrible taste in men."

Phil's eyes narrowed. He grabbed Clint's hips and shoved him onto the bed. Clint laughed, and didn’t stop until Phil joined him on the soft sheets and had much better uses for Clint's smart mouth.

 

* * *

 

They spent most of the day in bed. Some of it in the spacious shower. And they tried the private, indoor hot tub for a bit of fooling around. Only a bit because by that time they realized they needed to do other things. Like eat.

The resort had several options of bars and restaurants to choose from (including room service). They decided on the one that was more open to the outside with a view of the gardens. Clint wasn't entirely sure how a person could be on vacation and still have to dress-up to go to dinner. Sure, it wasn't jacket and tie required. But since he couldn't just wear his cargo shorts and sleeveless top, he still considered it dressing-up.

Phil, on the other hand, was actually dressed-down compared to his normal attire. His slacks were light-colored and he kept the top two buttons of his white shirt undone. Like that wasn't going to be distracting at all through dinner.

They ordered local seafood with a white wine (Phil's selection) when the waiter arrived. The restaurant also had a tapas buffet instead of appetizers to order. Phil volunteered to grab them a selection. Clint was more than happy to stay seated and enjoy the view of Phil walking away.

 "Clint Coulson, I thought that was you!" A familiar voice said next to him.

 Clint looked up at the young blonde woman dressed in a light flower-print dress fitting their Caribbean environment. Clint stood with a not altogether forced grin. "Aviva ! This is definitely a surprise!" And massively strange coincidence.

"I know!" She laughed and punched him playfully on the arm. "I'm just here to spend as much of my husbands money as I can before the divorce is final." She gasped suddenly and covered her mouth with a well-manicured hand. "Oh my God. You're not here on a mission, are you?" She whispered. "I haven't just blown your cover, have I?"

Clint shook his head. "No, no. Just Phil and me on vacation. Can't be saving the world everyday, you know."

Aviva's eyes gleamed and her smile turned wicked. "Your husband's with you? Marley will be _so_ pleased to see him again."

Clint's brows rose." Your- ah- friends are here too?"

"Needed some help to burn through that money." Aviva said with a shrug. "My plan is a couple days of fun in the sun, then one night we'll get so drunk on cocktails we'll tell each other how we really feel about each other, take separate flights home the next morning and never see each other again!" She beamed.

"Hello again," Phil said, returning to the table with a plate full of tapas in each hand. His smile was his professionally polite one, his eyes curious. "Mrs. Atherton, isn't it?"

"Not for much longer," she said brightly.

"Oh, I'm... Sorry?" He looked to Clint for guidance, who shook his head, "Or rather, I meant congratulations!"

Aviva winked and pointed her finger. "That's the one. Well, I will not keep you two love birds from your dinner any longer. I should get back to my table before Marley starts ordering food she knows I hate and Jemma Jane has too many cosmos." She waved and wandered back to the other side of the restaurant.

"That's your coffee/shopping friend, right?"

"Yeah," Clint agreed after a moments hesitation. He really wasn't sure how to define his relationship with the younger woman, but friend was as good as any.

 Phil hummed thoughtfully, tapping his finger on the tabletop. Clint knew that hum and expression. He covered Phil's hand with his own. "Hey, no. Rich people in certain circles are bound to vacation in the same places. Besides, if there was anyone less likely to be part of some espionage conspiracy..."

Phil shifted his hand to lace his fingers with Clint's and gave them a squeeze. "Of course. I'm sorry. Been so long since I've had a real break, can't stop analyzing and developing contingencies."

"Well then," Clint said, lowering his voice and leaning across the table. "Let's get dinner over with so we can get back to those tried and tested methods of turning that brilliant tactical brain of yours into mush."

 

* * *

 

The following day, they decided maybe to take advantage of the other resort amenities other than the really large, comfortable, durable bed. Their choices for swimming were the pool (which was the size of a small lake) or the beach. To be in the Caribbean and swim in the pool seemed extremely counter-intuitive. Also, It was 90% more likely to run into Aviva and Co. at the pool than the beach.

The resort provided most of the supplies, including a basket with a picnic lunch, towels and an umbrella. Clint wore his bright purple trunks with his boots, sunglasses, and nothing else. Phil kept on the t-shirt that matched his Captain America boardshorts. "Sure you don't want to slather white sunblock on your nose to complete the dork look?" Clint asked him, waving the bottle of lotion.

Phil grabbed the lotion from Clint's hand, ensuing a wrestling match that kicked sand all over the blanket Phil had spread out. Phil eventually got the upper hand, pinning Clint to the ground, sitting on him, one hand bracing all his weight on Clint's chest while with the other he popped open the sunblock and slathered it over Clint's face. "Who's the dork now?" He asked breathless yet triumphant.

Clint pushed himself up, but not Phil off, and rubbed their noses together, transferring some of the lotion. "Still you, babe."

Clint went into the water first, leaving Phil to set up their thinly occupied stretch of beach to his liking. The sea water was refreshingly cool. Clint wasn't trying to make it much of a workout, swimming only a little ways out and letting the gentle waves carry him back towards the shore over and over. He'd occasionally pop up and wave to Phil, who was lounging under the shade of the umbrella, reading a paperback mystery novel.

Clint was floating on his back, only a few yards out when approaching, loud, angry voices made him look back at the beach. Phil had his sunglasses pushed up on his forehead and watching a group of three ladies head his way.

Clint squinted in the sun at the three women and swore. He hastily flipped over and swam back to shore.

"If I recall, Mrs. Kennedy, you were fully compensated for the loss of your phone at the time," Phil was saying with an annoyed tilt to his head and mouth.

"Only after I signed your- your- Gag order!"

"Leave it alone, Marley!" Aviva said, obviously not for the first time.

"Non-disclosure agreement," Phil corrected her calmly.

"I have been treated extremely unconstitutionally! You can't just-"

She was interrupted by Jemma Jane's high-pitched squeak, as the third woman noticed Clint coming towards them. The others all turned, too. Marley's mouth was hanging open mid-sentence as she took in Clint's wet, mostly-naked body. Jemma Jane was giggling uncontrollably behind her hands. Aviva winked and said, "Nice trunks." Phil was rolling his eyes.

"What seems to be the problem?" Clint asked.

Jemma Jane controlled her giggles, but kept sneaking looks at Clint's torso from under the wide brim of her sunhat. Marley shook herself out of her stupor and went back to looking indignant. "The problem is the wanton destruction of a private citizen's personal property by a representative of the United States government! My husband's lawyers-"

"Mrs. Kennedy," Phil interrupted, standing to his full height. It wasn't considerable, and he was standing in his matching Cap tee and shorts, but with his sunglasses back in place, and taking his unmistakable Agent Stance, he caused Marley to take a step or two back. It was super hot, and Clint needed to drag him back to their room, or around that outcropping of rocks, as soon as possible. "I'm sure your husband's lawyers are very expensive and somewhat competent. And I'm even more certain that they'll enjoy causing you to spend far much more money than the cost of phone working on a petty case no court will take seriously, not putting your overblown sense of entitlement before national security. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to enjoying my vacation with my husband. Going back into the water Clint?" His voice immediately switched to his gentle, friendly tone.

 "Uh, yeah."

"Great." Phil whipped off his t-shirt, revealing his Army Ranger tattoo, his scars (especially the still prominent ones on his chest and back), and the firm muscles he kept normally kept under layers. He nodded and smiled at Aviva and Jemma Jane. "Mrs. Atherton, Mrs. Hearst, it was a pleasure to see you again." He didn't even look at Marley as he turned away from all of them and headed toward the water.

Aviva whistled low and nudged Clint's arm. "And here I thought he was the lucky one."

Clint laughed. "I know, right?"

Jemma Jane's gaze kept flicking between the two men. She bit her lip and blushed as pink as her bikini.

 Marley huffed and spluttered. "I don't... He can't..." She kicked at the sand. "He can't talk to me like that!"

Aviva sighed. "Go get wet with your sexy scary husband," she told Clint with a push. "I'll handle this." Clint was more than happy to obey.

Before the ocean noise completely covered their words, he heard Aviva telling Marley that she shouldn't have been rude first, and Jemma Jane begging them not to fight and remind them they were there to have fun. Clint had a feeling those separate flights home were happening sooner than expected.

 

* * *

 

The next day Clint asked "What about trying the spa?" from the bed where sat cross-legged with the resort's glossy pamphlets spread out around him.

Phil was greedily drinking the gourmet coffee that came with their breakfast. He was quickly becoming addicted, and Clint felt there'll be a special, standing order coming from Stark Tower when they return to New York. "No mud baths," Phil declared, coming up for air.

Clint shuddered. He never had tried them himself, but heard Nat complain about basically discovering where exactly one's "craw" was thanks to a spa day with Pepper and Jane. "Nah, I was just thinking massages and sauna maybe."

Phil, discovering the carafe had finally run dry, joined Clint on the bed. "My massages not good enough for you anymore?" He asked with a quirked eyebrow.

 "Yours are the best. But then you're worn out. This way we both enjoy the benefit."

"Hmm, that does sound nice."

Then he just sat there a moment, giving Clint an odd, expectant look. "What?" Clint asked.

"I'm just waiting for the inevitable 'happy ending' joke."

"The classiness of this place must be rubbing off on me."

Phil just snorted.

Not that he was one to judge. Not when he was actively participating in making each other laugh and annoying the masseurs by trying to out-do each other of making the loudest, most obscene noises as they were worked over. Phil tipped them generously in apology and looked a little ashamed as he did so.

"Seriously though, you girls are awesome," Clint said. "I feel like a washed-up jellyfish that just got beaten by a shark with meat tenderizer."

The women didn't seem to quite get the compliment. Phil slipped them a couple more bills.

The lady in charge of the saunas was all cheery smiles, even as she laid out the health and safety cautions and describing the symptoms of dehydration. Her expression fell to complete sternness, however, when she came to the last couple of items of the rules list. "Towels don't have to stay on, but no funny business."

"I swear, I won't crack a single joke."

She narrowed her eyes at Clint.

"We understand completely," Phil reassured.

 Once in the steamy room, Clint collapsed onto the wooden benches, still noodly from the massage. Some of kind of tinkling music with whale song was being piped in. "Hey, remember, don't fall asleep," Phil said, sitting next to Clint's head.

"Mmm, not." He blinked open his eyes. Phil was leaning back, legs splayed so that the little towel was about to unknot by itself. He had his head tipped back, the long column of his neck dragging Clint's eyes right down to the glistening skin on Phil's bare chest. Clint licked his lips and took a breath.

"No," Phil said, not even looking at him.

"Unless they have cameras in here like perverts, how would they even know?"

"Clint..."

"I could totally give you a blowjob and they'd be none the wiser."

Phil shifted. He self-consciously brought his legs closer together and gathered the towel closed. "Save it."

Clint whined.

"Just keep in mind the cold pool waiting for us outside. And we should decide what else we want to do with the rest of the week."

"Sex. Sex. Some food. More sex. Sleeping. Se-"

Phil ran his fingers through Clint's damp hair. "It has been nice, not having to worry about being interrupted by a world security emergency-" Not that that was completely out of the picture. Any immediate doomsday scenario would have Fury kicking in the sauna door himself and dragging them back to the helicarrier in only the tiny towels. "Or housemates with incredibly bad timing."

Clint hummed in agreement. Phil's fingers on his scalp was doing nothing but exacerbating Clint's current, frustrating state of being aroused, but far too relaxed to do anything meaningful about it. Clint was starting to look forward to cold plunge. "Well, what else were you thinking of? Golf? Tennis? Salsa lessons?"

"I read something about horseback riding."

 Clint laughed. "Yeah, how about you bottom for three days in a row and come back to me about horseback riding."

"Point. I suppose keeping to our room has certain appeal. We wouldn't be at risk of running into your friends again."

Clint grimaced. "Friend. Kinda. It's.... weird."

"Obviously."

"Let's not talk about it." Because Clint didn't like how sometimes when he does think about Aviva and the others, he also thinks about how easily he was identified and accepted into their society. And he lets his imagination run wild with the crazy scenario of what if Phil _was_ just some kind of wealthy Capitol Hill politico, and Clint had been some aide that was pretty enough to catch his eye. In this alternate universe would they be happy? Would they have actually fallen in love without the years of literal blood, sweat, and tears? Or maybe Clint was just a gold digger, only caring about the security of not ending up on the streets like when he was kid. And it was a stupid, stupid futile exercise. Because they weren't those people, never could be. Would never want to be. If that was some people's idea of normal, than Clint was happier than fuck to be spending his work hours shooting arrows through the heads of aliens, robots, and alien robots.

"I love you," Phil said in the silence caused by Clint's musings.

It didn't matter how long ago since he first said it, not how many times since. Each time hearing it, still made Clint's stomach flip, his heart lighten, and his breath catch. And because after all this time Clint still wasn't skilled with vocalizing such emotions said, "And yet you won't let me blow you in a semi-public place."

But Phil smiled, knowing what Clint really meant.

After the spa, they did spend the rest of the day in their suite. Despite Clint's previous lecherous overtures, they were both left feeling so relaxed and placid, they did little else but cuddle, just enjoying being together. Feeling loose-limbed and simply soaking in the warmth and presence of Phil around him was a comfort that left Clint feeling delicate yet safe with Phil's arms keeping him close.

They had dinner on their room's balcony. The music and voices of the other vacationers enjoying the resort's evening activities floated up to them, but was distant. They accidentally fell asleep out there, entwined together on a soft lounger.

They had woken up and moved back to the bed a couple hours later with Phil complaining about being too old and Clint being too heavy.

 

* * *

 

By the time they woke up properly, showered, and made time for other activities in between, it was past normal breakfast hours. Hand-in-hand they left their room to partake in the champagne brunch being served alfresco. The deck extended from the hotel over the beach, offering a glittering view of the ocean. The waiter filled their flutes immediately before taking their food order. "Why do I get the feeling a Stark invented the champagne lunch?" Clint asked, taking a sip. He didn't care that much for champagne, but this stuff was pretty good. "You used to do this kind of thing with Pepper, didn't you?"

 "Prefer it with you," Phil said. His eyes crinkled at the corner in a way Clint hadn't missed until this moment, realizing it had been some time since he seen it. Since he'd seen Phil this loose and happy, his dopey smile matching Clint's owns. The extra sun exposure had brought out the freckles on Phil's face and brow. His eyes were an even clearer blue than normal without the daily stress behind them.

"You're beautiful," Clint told him.

Phil's smile widened. He chuckled, a self-deprecating sound, shook his head and blushed. Clint was wrong, not beautiful: Gorgeous.

"Aw, I hate to interrupt this clearly special moment..." Clint tore his eyes begrudgingly away from the man in front of him. Aviva was standing there, looking at them like they were a pair of adorable puppies. "But I didn't want to leave without saying good-bye."

"Leaving already?"

"Everything went according to plan," she smiled. "There was booze, yelling, insinuations about fidelity or lack therefore. At least one glass was thrown. It was all very BRAVO. Marley and Jemma Jane left yesterday. Separate flights of course."

Clint stood and gave her a quick hug. "Good luck on your new life." He said.

"Don't worry about me Mr. Avenger. I'll have enough from the divorce to keep me afloat until I get back into cosmetology."

"About that," Phil said, rising. "If you find yourself having any difficulty getting back into business, I have been authorized to extend an offer on behalf of a friend." He handed her a familiar business card.

Aviva took it and raised her eyebrows. "Pepper Potts wants me to work for her?"

"Only if you want to."

"I'll keep it in mind." She tucked the card away in her handbag. She looked between them one last time. "Keep up the good work, boys." She winked and strutted away.

"Interesting woman," Phil commented. "Do you think you'll see her again?"

Clint shrugged. "Maybe. Hopefully it'd be bumping into her at a Starbucks where her utterly devoted boyfriend works."

Phil's brow furrowed and her looked at Clint askance. "That's...oddly specific."

"It's what she-"

" _¡_ _Alto!_ _¡_ _Alto!_ _¡_ _Ladrón!_ Thief!"

Clint, Phil, and the other diners all turned towards the shouting. A young man burst through the hotel doors. Two security officers and someone who looked like a manager were giving chase. The pursuee made to jump from the deck, but found himself impeded by a knife suddenly pinning his hand to the wooden rail. The guy screamed. The diners gave the scene a wide berth, several of them running back inside. The security guys suddenly seemed confused as to who to focus on: the burglar, or the guy throwing knives.

Phil quickly handled the situation, whipping out his SHIELD I.D. (of course he kept that on him) and explained that Clint was a totally legit law enforcer, too. And that the manager should call for a medic as well as the police. Clint went over with the security guys so he could get his knife back. The thief (just a kid really)...

Clint frowned, watching the guy struggle to pull the knife out of himself, making it bleed worse. A security officer removed a handful of shiny jewelry from the perp's jacket pocket. "Hey, do I know you?" His eyes widened. "You're that fucking bellhop! What did I tell you, honey?" He called over to Phil. "Can't trust these guys!"

 

 


End file.
